July 30, 2009

Dear Patty,

I think of cocktail parties as a 1950s phenomenon, the kind of gathering you'd expect the Rat Pack to drop in on, where men wore sharkskin suits and women were girdled and bouffanted. By the time I was old enough to drink. people at parties in Southeast Missouri and even in California mostly just drank beer and some smoked weed. Polite cocktail repartee had been replaced by stoned mooniness. In either case, I didn't qualify as a party animal.

So it was with trepidation that I accompanied DC to a cocktail party last weekend. Though not up to Dante's vision of hell, standing around making small talk with strangers does not top my list of pleasures. But DC was going, and not alone.

The guest of honor was a friend's son visiting from New York. Matthew is semifamous for reaching one of the last rounds in last year's "America's Got Talent" TV show. Ask him what projects he is working on, DC suggested. Performers being performers, she didn't think I'd need to say anything else.

Matthew was entertaining a few other guests with an Al Pacino impersonation when we walked in the door. He plays piano and sings, but Matthew's special gift is impersonation, the talent that impressed the judges and the national audience on "America's Got Talent."

Our friend's dining room table looked more like Dante's version of paradise, laden with skewered meats and ambrosial salads and a chocolate confection that was making people swoon. A server and a bartender awaited our commands.

When DC put the question to Matthew he said he has three national commercials, a 1950s revue and a few other things going. Then he moved on to another group. Maybe that's the secret to cocktail partying.

Some of the people at this party weren't strangers. Still, much of the time you stand in a circle talking about whatever comes to mind, except politics, of course, and religion, of course, and the weather, since that's what the cashiers at the grocery store want to talk about, so you try to think of something suitable for most anyone, and nothing really is. Time for some more guacamole and sangria.

I am awed by someone as naturally entertaining as Matthew. He sat down at the baby grand piano in the living room and began doing what natural performers do, even when off duty.

Matthew looks like a 1950s guy, hair swept back, strong jaw, and is especially fond of doo-wop songs. For an hour, he sang Ray Charles and Jerry Lee Lewis songs and impersonated each of the "America's Got Talent" judges.

Talking about his appearances on "America's Got Talent" is OK for about a year but any longer becomes pathetic, Matthew told his audience. He then invited everyone to join him the following night at a local club where he would be a celebrity judge at a bikini contest. His year isn't quite up.

Some Las Vegas casino undoubtedly will book Matthew to open for a singer like Wayne Newton or a comedian like Don Rickles. They are retro in the best sense, and so is he.

I'm going on the cocktail party circuit.

Love, Sam

sj-blackwell@att.net<I>